


Slow Dance

by stellarbisexual



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Coming of Age, First Kiss, First Love, M/M, Puppy Love, School Dances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-25
Updated: 2019-04-25
Packaged: 2020-01-31 12:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18591367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellarbisexual/pseuds/stellarbisexual





	Slow Dance

Eddie’s only fourteen when he first realizes he’s in love with Richie Tozier.

To be fair, the revelation isn’t as advanced as, “I’m in love with him.”  It’s more, “There’s no one I’d rather spend this much time with.” The thought comes to him as he stares at Richie’s profile under the slowly lowering sun: big sparkling blue eyes and surprisingly full lashes, full lips and the flimsy start of a mustache just above them.  Eddie wants to make fun of it almost as much as he wants to kiss it.

“That one looks like Bill’s dick,” Richie says, pointing at one of the clouds above them.  

Eddie lands one of his curled up fists onto Richie’s stomach, a little too hard.  Richie smacks him back on the arm halfheartedly. “How would  _ you _ know?”

“You  _ haven’t _ seen Bill’s dick?”  Richie looks at him finally, all eyes and open mouth.  

“ _ No! _  When did you?”

“I walked in on him taking a whiz once when I was staying over his house.  I refused to leave the bathroom until he could actually get out the words  _ get the fuck out _ .”

Eddie cackles despite himself, Richie giving him that familiar look like he’s achieved something incredible.  

“He was stuttering so bad.  I was in there for a good minute and a half looking at his dong before he just gave up and shoved me out of there.  Fell right on my back in the hallway and woke his mom up.”

As always, Eddie isn’t sure how much of the story is true, but as always, it doesn’t matter.  He hopes the sun never goes down. He doesn’t want this to end.

Suddenly, his vision is blacked out: little white flower petals dropping onto his face.  Usually such a gesture from Richie would be a wind-up, and it would involve dirt in his mouth, too, sputtering.  But there’s something gentle about it this time. All it takes is a few blinks for the petals to fall away and reveal Richie looking at him from above.  

“That’s pretty fucking sappy, Eds,” he says fondly, and Eddie realizes that he’d voiced his wish out loud.  He’d be embarrassed if Richie didn’t look so pleased.

*

There’s a school dance that spring--their first--and his six best friends are all insisting that the seven of them go together.  

“Why do we have to go at all?” Eddie snarks, hoping for Stan to jump in and agree like he always does, but  _ always _ had a shorter shelf life than he expected since Stan started dating and wants to have the opportunity to give Patty flowers and maybe kiss her.  

“C’mon, Eddie my love, how else will I get to slow dance with you?”  Richie attempts to take him for a spin around Mike’s barn, launching into a truly horrifying rendition of  _ More than Words. _

The others laugh, but Eddie can’t appreciate the moment; he’s too stuck on the  _ why _ and the  _ what if _ .  He locks eyes with Bill, hoping for backup again and not getting it.  

Bill shrugs.  “I think it’ll buh-buh-be fuh-fun if we’re all together.”

Eddie takes a much needed puff of his inhaler once Richie finally lets him go.  He wrings his hands. “I don’t even know what the fuck I would wear. And it’s not like my mom will actually let me go, anyway.”

“We’ll find a way to get you out, like we always do,” Mike reassures him with a kind, patient smile.  

“And I’ve got you covered for what to wear,” Bev winks, grabbing both of his hands and taking him for a spin, too.  “You’re the only one of these goobers who can actually dance, so I need you, dude.” The others protest a little at that, but she shushes them.  “If we get there and you hate it, I’ll leave with you,” she whispers, pushing the hair out of his eyes. “Promise.”

He finds Richie over Bev’s shoulder, perched on a haybale with a lopsided grin, watching them.   _ Come on _ , he mouths, private and sweetly imploring, not at all like the Richie he’s used to, and his heart tumbles in his chest at the intimacy of it.  He offers him a nervous smile and says, “Okay” for everyone to hear, and there’s a big cheer.

*

Ben’s the one who picks him up the night of the dance--about an hour early, with the cover story that they’re studying for an algebra midterm.  He deposits them at Bev’s aunt’s house, where Ben watches as Bev works her magic.

“I wish I had more money so I could’ve gotten you a whole outfit,” Bev says, pulling a hanger out of the back of her closet, “but I don’t think anyone’s gonna care once they see how hot you look in this.”  She reveals a cool little green bomber jacket that Eddie can tell will fit him perfectly just by eyeballing it. He reaches for it, and she chuckles. “Not so fast; hair first.”

Eddie’s eyes go huge as she pulls out a can of Aquanet.  “Eugh, I fucking hate how that stuff smells.” He dodges, darting nearly to the other side of her bedroom.

Thankfully, she reconsiders.  “Good point. I don’t want anyone to have to borrow your inhaler when they slow dance with you.”

“Who says I’m gonna sl--”

Ben rests a calming hand on his shoulder from where he’s sitting at the foot of Bev’s bed, one foot tucked under his butt.  “It’s okay, Eddie. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”

He looks at Bev.  She shoves the hairspray back in her Caboodle and holds both of her hands up.  “How about mousse? If I fuck it up, we’ll wash it out and I’ll make it look exactly the way it looks now.”

After a moment, Eddie gingerly approaches her again.  “Fine. Just don’t make me look like Jordan Knight.”

“You should be so lucky,” Ben says, and Eddie sticks his tongue out at him as he spins around to sit in the chair at Bev’s desk.  

It doesn’t take too long, only about fifteen minutes in all, and when Bev’s done, she insists on slipping the bomber jacket around his shoulders before he checks himself out in the mirror.  “Wow.” He has to admit, he looks great. Bev must think so too; he can see her looking totally smug behind him in the reflection.

“Richie’s gonna shit his pants when he sees you.”

At that exact moment, Richie arrives, rounding the corner and poking his head into Bev’s room.  “ _ Hey _ !  Richie hasn’t shit his pants since at least last Tuesday!”  Eddie’s behind the open door, so he doesn’t notice him at first.  “What are we starin’ at?  _ Oh. _ ”

Eddie’s eyes find Richie’s in the mirror.  “Hey, Rich.”

“...Wowza.”

*

The dance itself is uneventful, way less of a deal than Eddie thought it would be.  The seven of them all stick together both on the dance floor and off, most of them sitting it out for the slow ones, except Stan and Patty, of course, and Bev, who takes turns with Ben, Bill, and Richie. Richie acts like a complete tool for everyone’s benefit, and by the end of the night, they’re all sweaty from dancing like idiots and worn out from laughing so hard.

He and Richie are the last to leave, the two of them rinsing the gunk out of Eddie’s hair and shoving the jacket into Eddie’s backpack before they head back to Eddie’s on foot.  Everything about it is so ordinary, right down to the way Richie cracks his knuckles as Eddie babbles about the midterm he and Ben were supposed to be studying for tonight. Richie’s never understood stressing out over school; it’s always come infuriatingly easy to him.  

“I don’t understand what the big fucking deal is,” Eddie rants in a whisper as they approach his corner.  “I can’t think of a single job where I’m going to need quadratic equations.”

Suddenly, he feels Richie’s hand slip into his, stopping him.  There’s a lull that feels like an eternity as Richie quietly steps into his space, knuckles his chin up and brushes a dry, chaste kiss over the corner of his mouth.  Richie immediately shoves his hands into his pockets, blushing fiercely and kicking at gravel. “You looked so cute tonight. I wanted to do it earlier, but…”

“...Lots of people, yeah.”  Eddie’s smiling. His face fucking hurts from how much he can’t stop smiling.  He takes a chance, cupping the back of Richie’s neck, rising up on his toes, and kissing him properly, the sound of crickets loud on his quiet street.  Their lips slot together sweetly, and Richie’s eyes are still closed when they separate. “I’d better go in before somebody sees us,” Eddie whispers.

“Wanna go to the quarry and make out tomorrow?” Richie blurts.

Eddie pinches his shoulder, hard.  “‘Night, Rich.” He resists the urge to kiss him again, forcing himself around the corner and toward his house, hoping Richie’s watching as he goes.


End file.
